


Tonight

by RoryKurago



Series: Dog Soldiers [1]
Category: Dog Soldiers (2002)
Genre: Alcohol, Gallows Humor, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28700820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoryKurago/pseuds/RoryKurago
Summary: Cooper wasn’t sure how he expected tonight to go, but this was not it.“Fuck,” Annie said again. And then twice more in quick succession, followed by the whiskey bottle exploding against the wall.
Relationships: Annie Wells/Harry Wells, Cooper (Dog Soldiers) & Annie Wells
Series: Dog Soldiers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103828
Kudos: 1
Collections: Rory's 100 Themes Writing Challenge





	Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> 100 Themes: 61 - Tonight

Cooper wasn’t sure how he expected tonight to go, but this was not it.

“Fuck,” Annie said again. And then twice more in quick succession, followed by the whiskey bottle exploding against the wall. “Fuck. Fuck!” _Smash_.

“Shit,” she said, much more quietly, looking at the splatter. “That was the twelve-year bottle.”

It was in fact the twelve-year bottle Cooper had bought her and Sarge as a present for their twelve-year anniversary. The wall turned dark and dappled as the alcohol soaked down it in long blood-dribble stains like a headshot. ‘Mediterranean sand’, the colour was; Cooper remembered Sarge pissing and moaning about making three trips to the hardware shop because Annie kept changing her mind about how it looked on the living room wall. Spoon had offered to help him repaint for fifty quid and Sarge had almost taken his head off for the sheer cheek of attempting to extort a superior.

“You know that prick promised he’d take me to Australia next leave block,” Annie said tonelessly. “Course he dies before he has to follow through. Wanker.”

She didn't mean a word of what she was saying, of course. But the rage itself was genuine--and probably the most authentic thing Cooper had heard since staggering out of the woods.

Psych had let him out for the kindness (this one; this one only) of having this episode out with her in person, unsupervised. Cooper wouldn’t, they evidently surmised, off himself with his bootlaces in the next hour or two.

Annie, on the other hand…

She would, he knew, fall apart once the rage wore off. She could be uncommonly sweet and lovely, but in Cooper’s experience women who married into the Army and stayed that way tended to have a healthy vein of piss and vinegar. (Which was probably an equally healthy part of why Cooper himself didn’t have a missus.)

Annie put her glass down and picked it up again several times as she scowled into space. “Fuck,” she said again.

Cooper heaved himself out of the armchair. “I’ll get the other bottle…”

“Ten-year’s in the cabinet on the left,” she said absently. “Leave the Macallan though, Harry’s saving it for—” Her voice hitched.

Wringing her hands, she tore the dry tissue there in half and dropped it without realising. “Fuck it,” she said faintly. “Bring the Macallan. Bring all of it.”

“D’you want me to call some friends,” Cooper began uncertainly, only half joking, “or are we having our own private alcohol poisonin’ party?”

“No,” she said, not looking at him but sounding sure of it just the same. “Just you. …bring fresh glasses with a couple of icecubes too. Harry’d pitch a blue fit if we poured his Macallan into used glasses and mixed it with the lesser mortals.”


End file.
